


L'Escalade

by CapriciousVanity



Category: Gankutsuou: The Count of Monte Cristo
Genre: Erotic Electrostimulation, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Omorashi, Sex Toys, Sounding, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 02:56:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1882449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapriciousVanity/pseuds/CapriciousVanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albert wanted to wish the Count well, hearing he had been struck with his illness once again. The Count, being fatigued, asks Albert to aid him, of which leads to a quick escalation of passion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	L'Escalade

**Author's Note:**

> It's terribly written and I apologize. If there are glaring errors, feel free to let me know.

"His Excellency, the Count, is not feeling well. I'm afraid he has asked not to be disturbed.”

Albert felt his heart sink. 

“Is he alright? Is it the same illness as before? Can I at least wish him well?”

Bertuccio kept himself from sighing. Through his earring, he could hear the Count speak.

“Let him come...”

Bertuccio bowed and muttered, “This way.”

Albert's face beamed. The kindness and adoration he felt for the Count never ceases to amaze any of the servants, nor the Count himself. Edmond thought it was cute, the frivolous naïveté of the child. The Count covered his face with his gloved hand, the mouth and eyes of Gankutsuou covering his face as if it were blank.

“Viscount Albert de Morcerf,” announced Bertuccio on the other side of the door.

With harsh gruff in his voice, the split Count answered, “Let him in...”

The doors opened slowly, the creaking had annoyed Albert's ears.

“Sir?”

Gankutsuou retreated and the Count sat up in his chair, his back was to Albert. Gaining his composure, he turned to the boy, smiling kindly.

“Albert. Please, come in.”

The doors behind the boy closed as he walked in, unwavered by the thought of the Count's illness. He went to his side and, with the utmost care, he placed his hand on the Count's arm.

“Sir, are you feeling well...?”

Edmond shook his head.

“I apologize.. It's nothing serious, nor contagious. I appreciate your concern, Monsieur VIscount.”

“What are the symptoms...?”

“Headaches, mostly. Fatigue, general weakness... “ the Count peered to his gloved hand. Albert did not want to be rude and guess, but he figured it was his chill touch. It was a good thing he didn't say anything. He was surprised, and fought back his horror when the Count removed the glove. His blue skin was lined with gold before becoming clear, showing his bone and tendons.

“Count..!” Albert took his cold hand, holding it dearly. 

“It's quite alright, Albert. It will return to normal.”

Come to think of it, Albert has never seen the Count without more than his coat and hat off. Even his family and friends have light summer clothes, even Bertuccio and Baptistin would show off their physique. The Count was always covered, especially by his thick wool coat, even in spring and summer. His eyes fell to the slight opening in the Count's shirt.

“Albert.”

“I just... I just want to make sure you're okay. I wanted to come wish you well. I'll leave, to let you get your rest.”

“If you wouldn't mind, I would enjoy your company for a moment longer.”

Albert smiled and nodded, stroked the Count's hand, then took a seat in the chair beside him. 

“Count?”

“Yes, Albert?”

“I admire you greatly…”

“So you've said before.”

“I'm Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I am flattered and humbled by your affectionate compliments, Viscount.”

Albert smiled before the Count continued.

“Have you come to a conclusion? When I invited you and your company to my subterranean villa, you and the General had quite the row.”

“…Conclusion?”

“About your fiancée. Do you love her?”

“Well…”

Albert did love her, but not as a fiancée. He loved her as his sister. He knew she was interested in another type of person. Rather, she wasn’t interested in his kind, men or boys. Albert figured he was inclined to the Count’s affections, but had been much too embarrassed to admit them aloud. He was sure Franz knew, Peppo knew, and the Count himself knew.

“Not the way I should.,” he finally said.

“Please, elaborate.”

“I… Well… She’s more interested in… Not gentlemen.”

“I see. And you?”

“And I…?”

“Interested in gentlemen?”

Albert made a whining sound. The Count laughed, teasing him.

“You don’t need to answer that if you’re nervous. There are certain places that would stone you to death you as quickly as Villefort can write the execution notice. I won’t compromise you by asking for a confession.”

Albert appreciated the sentiment.

“Just... Just you, I think.”

“Hmm?”

“I think you.. You’re the only other gentleman I’ve had such feelings for, Count. I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m sure I could think of a few,” he joked. Albert, too focused on his feelings, missed the punchline.

“Your subjects are so loyal to you...”

“Are yours not?”

“ Well, yes they are but..! I think it's more out of obligation. They have to be, it's their job. Haydee, Bertuccio, Ali, Baptistin... They respect you as more than just their master. They truly care for your wellbeing. I think it's admirable.”

“Yes, it is... I purchased Haydee and have always wanted her to know that she is to do as she wished. Bertuccio has made a promise to me to stay by my side. I have helped both Ali and Baptistin and they have sworn their loyalty to me since.”

Albert looked down, his hands in his lap.

“I... I want to swear, as well.”

“Pardon?”

Looking up, thee was a childish fire in his eyes. “I want to swear my loyalty to you, as well, Your Excellency! I care a great deal about you and... I don't know how else to show you I want to share that respect, my admiration for you, Sir.”

“Albert, there are things you do not know-”

“And I don't have to know! If you don't want to tell me, then I'm fine with that! I want to be a part of your life.”

“Oh?”

Albert flushed, his hair standing on end. He didn't mean for it to come out the way it did.

“I, I mean...”

The Count laughed heartily. Albert covered his sheepish smile. Edmond began to cough and lurched over. The boy stood and patted his back gently. 

“Count!”

Edmond waved nonchalantly and cleared his throat. “Nothing, it's nothing.”

He sat back and took a deep breath, his hair cascading down the red velvet of his chair. 

“Albert, what I mean is that there are things I would share with you that could disturb you. There are many things you do not know, I do not want to ruin what we have for such details.”

“You won't! I promise, I'll swear here and now! I, Viscount Albert de Morcerf, son of General Fernand Morcerf, swear my respect and unwavering loyalty to you, His Excellency, The Count of Monte Cristo.”

Edmond sighed. Oh, you stupid boy. His ownhand trailed to the inside of his shirt, feeling his beating heart through his clear and delicate skin.

“Albert, I will show you the extent of my illness. I do not wish to frighten you, but most of it covers a large portion of my body. It is something all my servants are aware of and are capable of treating if I am hurt or worse.”

Albert didn't say anything, only waited patiently.

The Count pushed himself from the chair and unbuttoned his blouse. He carefully examined Albert's expression, expecting discontent and bewildered confusion, but only found awe. The middle and left half of his chest was clear-skinned. Albert could see past the strings of most of his muscle and straight to his heart, watching it double-beat. His bones were pristine, almost inhumanly white. His entire abdomen before his the waist of his trousers was translucent, his intestines, stomach, diaphragm, lungs, and kidneys... 

Albert blushed. It was as if he was seeing something intimate; not only the Count's body but his internal workings as well. Every heart beat, every inhale, the subtle flutter of his diaphragm... The account sat down and extended his arm.

“You look more infatuated than frightened.”

The Count's voice snapped the Viscount back to reality. He covered his red cheeks.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean–”

The Count silenced him with his hand. “Come here.”

Albert hesitated before stepping closer. The Count took his hands, removed his gloves, then pressed them to his belly. The translucence was softer than his usual blue skin. He was actually... Neither cool nor warm. Touching his blue skin, it was suddenly ice, but the clear coating holding his organs inside, it was... Neutral. 

Albert's hands smoothly glided over the man's chest, his pectorals, his heart, his abs... Christ, Albert knew the Count must take good care of his body, but he saw it was more than that. He was actually well toned, rather muscular. Edmond, in his previous life aboard his old ship required him to be physically fit. It didn't hurt to continue to train himself to keep his physique. 

Albert's fingers ran over the Count's pert nipples. The Count took a breath and Albert withdrew.

“Sorry.”

“You needn't be. Part of my skin is condensed, thicker than that of others. A bullet that would surely go through you would barely reach a few inches through me. However, this sickness, it only condenses my skin and smooth muscle. Cardiac and skeletal muscles, among others, are not affected. They are neither clear nor thick.” The Count motioned to cylindrical scar tissue inside his left pectoral. It was only somewhat clear, and webbed. 

“When you were shot...”

“And when you were very brave. It could have certainly killed me if he had proper aim. Ali was able to pull the bullet out and help my skin repair itself.”

“That's amazing...” said Albert, breathlessly.

The Count chuckled.

Albert starred at the scar and noticed other small webs of tissue, and other scratches, pierced flesh, and a variety of more scars. Albert felt worrisome, wondering what the Count does all day to get such markings. Without thinking, he kissed the bullet wound.

“Albert?”

“I'm sorry, it's just... It's just so sad, Your Excellency. I don't know what you do all day, with whom, or where. And you have all these scars, Sir.”

Edmond thought the boys worry was sweet. Unnecessary, but sweet.

“Thank you, Albert, for visiting with me. If you don't mind, I wish to retire to my room. I am still fatigued, but my mood is no longer foul.”  Albert stepped back when the Count stood, but with struggle. 

“Do you need help, Count?”

The Count's expression was strained, but he attempted to appear soft.

“If you don't mind, Albert.”

“Not at all!”

The boy slid his arm under the Count's. He steadied himself when Edmond leaned most of his weight to the Viscount's shoulders. Albert helped him as best he could out of the dimly lit room and into the hallway.

They walked in silence, but Albert would glance to the Count's tired face now and again. 

“Down that hall. It'll be the very last room.”

Albert nodded, walking Edmond down. He could see it from there. The enormous doors when up to the ceiling. They were stone, like the rest of the newly bought villa, but carved into them were intricate patterns Albert could not place a time period to. And he wouldn't be able to. The servants had carved the patterns in the likeness of Gankutsuou. Albert noticed what looked to be six eyes and a mouth at the top as he marveled the doorway. They opened automatically and the patterns illuminated a soft violet. The room inside was just as pretentiously luxurious, full of hanging paintings. Most of the decorations were gold, even the chairs, and most things were lined with red and violet velvet, royal colors on royal fabric. Albert was impressed at the very least. The doors closed behind them as they entered.

He helped the Count to sit the edge of his bed, careful with pulling his arms away. 

“Thank you, Viscount.”

“It was nothing, Sir. I hope you'll recover quickly.”

The Count's hand clasped the nape of Albert's neck.

“I want you to know that I enjoyed our talk, and especially your company today.”

Albert placed his hand over the Count's with a smile.

“Excellency?”

“Yes, Albert?”

“Do you... Do you accept my fealty and services to you? I was being serious, you know.”

“I see.”

“I am your vassal, Sir. Lord.”

“And your loyalty is undeniable?”

“Of course!”

The Count shifted closer.

“You are willing to accept any duty, any request that I ask of you?”

“Yessir.”

“You are not only swearing loyalty to myself, but the other servants as well. You swear to me that, just as they would help and aid you, you shall aid and help them?”

“Yes.”

Both of the Count's hands cupped the boy's face as his heterochromatic gaze pierced the boy's own.

“Then you are mine, Albert. You have made yourself disposable, made yourself common drab equal to servants. You do as I ask, when I ask, no matter the cost. Albert, do you swear this?”

The Count's tone was suddenly harsh. It made the Viscount nervous. 

“Yes...”

“Do you swear?!”

He swallowed. “Yes! I swear.”

The Count sighed with frustration.

“Albert, I will not accept this.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because you are not a servant, Monsieur, you are a Viscount.”

Edmond lifted his ice hand to the boy’s face, his thumb oh so gently caressed the mole by his eye. He pulled Viscount Morcerf closer to kiss the top of his head before patting his shoulder.

“I do appreciate your kindness, Albert.”

“It’s nothing! I… I wish you a speedy recovery.” Albert lingered for a moment, making eye contact before kissing the Count at the corner of his lips. Edmond realigned their kiss. It wasn’t deep, nor passionate; it was soft, gentle, and timid on Albert’s part. He pulled away and muttered an apology.

“No, don’t be. Although, I had imagined this much differently.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was going to invite you for dinner and wine, as an equal, not a servant. We would drink minimally, I would casually touch your hand, I would offer you another story of fantastic journeys… I would watch your face beam with intelligent curiosity and kiss your head. Your cheek. Your lips. But here we are instead, my body a mess”

“I like your body.”

“Such things you say!”

Albert flushed, having not thought before speaking.

“I do not feel as fatigued, but I’m afraid there are still raw patches along my skin. Albert, do you still swear your loyalties to me?”

“What? Of course!”

“Good. Albert, you are magnificent. Now get me wine.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Wine.”

Albert felt conflicted but turned to leave.

“Are you not going to ask if I like red or white?”

The Viscount stopped.

“I figured you prefer–”

“Don't 'figure,' Albert. Ask.”

“Would you like Red or White, uh, Sir?”

“Red.”

Albert nodded.

“They're in the shelves.”

Albert saw the wineshelf of various bottles. Some cubicles were closed off, possibly refrigerated. Albert walked to it and reached for a wine. He was intimidated by the many types. He couldn't tell much of a difference between the fancier stuff. He picked a fruity Sangiovese, looking at it before finding the shelf of glasses. He did his best to pour it. The boy set the bottle down and offered the glass to the Count. Edmond gave him a foul look and brushed it away, spilling it on Albert's waistcoat and cravat.

“Hey!”

“Don't  _hey_  me, boy. You take and bring the bottle, then open it, then pour in front of the company.”

Albert tried not to shake. It was something as stupid as getting wine; there was no need to break down. He brought the bottle and a new glass then poured for the Count.

“Good,” muttered the Count. His hand stroked Albert's cheek, as it was wet with wine. 

“When you do things correctly and ask beforehand, you get rewarded.”

Albert's cheeks lit pink. Edmond took a sip of his glass, humming contently. He leaned closer to the young Viscount, his lips trailing along the boy's cheek.

With a rough, sanguine tone, the Count's muttered, “Wouldn't you like that... Albert..?”

Albert shuddered at the Count's breath by his ear. He nodded. The Count's lips hovered by Albert's cheek before pressing to his skin endearingly.

He pulled away. Albert blinked a few times, somewhat dazed by tenderness.

The Count offered Albert de Morcerf a drink from his glass. The boy leaned into it, drinking all the wine. 

“Get me another. The Pinot Noir.” 

“Yessir.”

“Don't be so informal.”

“I'm... I apologize, Your Excellency.”

Albert went back to the shelf, searching for the red wines again. He found a few, of various aromas. He brought two, one in head hand, before offering the Count.

“That one.”

It was a dark cherry. Albert opened it carefully, pouring it in the same glass. 

“How filthy.”

Albert flinched. 

“You haven't even changed clothes.”

“I'm sorry.”

The Count grabbed the boy's tie and yanked him down. Albert yelped.

“When you do thing incorrectly, without asking, you are punished, Albert.”

The Count removed the boys tie and pulled Albert over his lap. He raised his hand and struck the boy across his bottom. Albert called out in surprise. The Count struck him again, mindful of the padding of the boy's clothes. Again, and again.

“Ouch..! Ouch!”

Albert felt tears sting his eyes. The Count stopped abruptly and yanked back the boy's head by his thick hair.

“How lovely, your face when it's the same color as my favourite wines. Drink this, would you?”

Albert sniffled and stood back up, taking the glass with a shaky hand. He took a sip. The odd fruit mixed with spice, somewhat dry mixed with sweet. It wasn't as pleasant as he'd hoped. He supposed that’s why he needed a new glass. 

“All of it.”

He downed the whole glass. The Count poured him another.

“More.”

Albert slowly drank the next. The Count poured him yet another. Albert drank as much as he could.

“Count... I have to excuse myself.”

“No.”

The answer was so abrupt, Albert wasn’t sure what to say.

“Come here.”

He sat beside the Count slowly. Edmond sighed languidly. He unbuttoned Albert's waistcoat and blouse; his half-transparent hand ran over the boy's pubescent chest. Edmond pulled Albert to where his groin was dug into by the man's knee. Viscount Albert squirmed. 

“Please, Sir.”

“How dare you. A servant does not ask anything of their master.”

Albert shifted, pressing himself harder on the Count's knee, squeezing his legs together.

“I... I don't want to make a mess... I have to pee.”

The Count jerked his leg into the boy's crotch, making him squeak. Albert sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, feeling warmth fill his trousers. He stepped back.

“How disgusting,” said the Count with nonchalance. 

“I'm sorry.” Albert's voice cracked. He was on the verge of tears. Edmond wiped his eyes with a feather touch. 

“Don't be.” His voice was soft. Edmond pushed himself up with mild struggle. He undid his buckle and slid off his belt, and tugged at the hem of Albert's. The teary-eyed boy sniffed and pulled down his wet pants. His embarrassment burned in his chest. 

“Albert, bend over the bed.”

He quickly did so, over the bed, bracing himself. The Count took his belt and folded it in half. He hummed before standing back, readying his belt. Edmond snapped it once, then twice, thrice, quatrice on Albert's naked bottom. Pathetic boy cried out, clutching the blanket of the bed in his hands. He hid his face in the mattress, muffling his voice, biting the soft sheets. It stung, every impact stung, but he was enjoying it. He felt partly disgusted with himself, reveling in this punishment His Excellency was giving him.

“No, no Albert. I'll hit you harder. Let me hear you!”

Albert, tears strewn down his face, called out from the mattress. He gripped the sheets in fists.

“Good.. Good, gentle boy.”

The Count stopped his whipping. His hand groped then massaged Albert's sensitive, red cheeks. His hands gingerly caressed the boy’s ass, his lower back, and massaged his shoulder blades before he tousled the boy's hair and pulled it back. Albert gritted his teeth. The Count kissed his little mole by his eye.

“Tell me, Albert. What would you like me to do?”

Albert couldn’t find any words. The Count jerked him to his feet, holding him from behind by his hair. Albert cried out, his hands grasping the one at his scalp.

“Anything!” Albert blurted. 

“Anything?”

“Yes! Please... Anything Count, I swore myself to you!”

“I have a special treat in store for you, Albert. I was hoping to see you after my body was... In a better state.”

“I like your body.”

“Such things you say, a servant to his master. Now, Albert, are you going to be good?”

Albert nodded, his prick growing hard. He apologized for it, but the Count leaned his weight onto the boy's shoulders.

“Sir?”

“Go get me a chair.”

The Count released the boy and he looked about the room. Albert found a gilded chair of the very same red velvet that decorated most of the room. He carefully lifted it and brought it over by the bed.

“Sit along the bed. Quickly, before I whip you with a switch instead.”

The Count pushed him and Albert caught himself on the edge, turning and hoisting himself on the soft plush.

“Now then...” Muttered the Count. His thoughts trailed off as he opened a drawer from his nightstand. He paused, leaning on the nightstand. His body was still tired, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give his gift to Albert. A small gold box with intricate, floral engravings lay inside. Pulling it out, he also pulled a tangled mass of chords with clamps on either side of them. They were colored black and red alternately. Another box, much smaller, came with it all. He opened it to reveal thin rods of varying lengths, none over more than a few inches. Each had a ball at one end. The Count fiddled with all of these things, untangling and connecting things. He sat in the chair and held the box in his lap, double checking everything to be sure they had been properly sanitized. There were a few other things inside the drawer, neatly set. From it, he also pulled a cloth from it, keeping it neatly folded as it was set on the flat surface.

“Electro-Stimulation,” he started. “Have you heard of it?”

Albert shook his head, wiping his wet eyes.

“This,” The Count showed him one of the rods, the round end connected by a clamp and chord to the box. “This, my dear, is a sounding rod. Do you know where it goes?”

Albert could guess, but he shook his head silently again.

“Open your legs.”

The Count gently caressed the boy’s thigh. From the drawer, he found a small bottle of lubricant. He made sure to drown the rod with it. He pressed the tip of it to the tip of Albert’s prick. He slowly, oh so slowly, let it slide into the slit. The boy shuddered, but the comforting strokes on his thigh helped. Albert bit his lip, attempting to keep his pathetic mewls back in his throat. The thin rod was halfway down his cock when the Count began to pull it back. Albert couldn’t contain his gasp. His abdomen twitched. Again, Edmond pushed the rod back into the boy’s cock, a little further this time. He pulled it back out and did this two more times, until the tip where the small ball at the end connected to the clamp and box. The Count admired Albert’s smaller frame, his ice hands swept over his soft skin.

“Can you stand?”

Albert nodded, slowly getting up. The Count was no longer using such harsh tones with him.

“Albert, I hope you do realize our little game,” he said suddenly. “Do not degrade yourself to actual servanthood. You are a Viscount; still young, supple, honest, and terribly foolish. I suppose I should have ask this of you before coming so far.”

“No, not at all, Sir.”

“Oh?”

“I… I figured I could say no at any time and run away. Half-way through, I didn’t think this was how you treat your servants…”

Edmond laughed cheerfully. Silly, stupid boy, saying such embarrassing things…

Edmond found in the drawer a rigid toy connected to another chord, phallic in shape – Albert assumed it was a dildo. His face couldn’t grow more red than it already was. Shifting his weight, he watched the Count pour an excessive amount of lube on it, dripping on the floor. His hands also coated, they slid between Albert’s ass cheeks. The Viscount stepped closer, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the gentle prodding. He squeaked and bent over, his forehead against the Count’s shoulder. The older man kissed his neck, his cheek, his shoulder, and all over whilst his ring and middle fingers found themselves smoothly moving to and fro. Albert sighed blissfully.

With careful ministrations, the Count was able to sufficiently lube Albert’s ass and slide the head of the toy with care inside his tight bottom. Albert bit his lip once more, his hands behind him, spreading himself open. The Count of Monte Cristo could feel Albert’s skin heat up with every kiss. He pulled the toy back away from Albert before trying again, being sure not to hurt the boy. Albert gasped and sighed, lifting his face to kiss the Count desperately. Edmond stayed cool; his lips still ice. After a few moments of slow preparation, the rigid cock had found itself just over halfway into Albert’s ass. Edmond was sure to add extra lubrication.

Albert sat on the bed, breaking their kiss to push the toy further inside until he hit the stopper. He situated himself, closing his eyes to enjoy the feeling for a moment longer. Edmond set the power box on the dresser and connected a couple more chords. The ends were clamps. He kissed Albert’s neck, down his collarbone, and to his chest, pushing Albert on his back against the soft sheets. His strangely sharp fangs brushed against the boy’s nipples. He gave them attentions, kissing and suckling until they were pert. The Count while by his chest listened to Albert’s breathing before kissing his skin and closing one of the clamps around a nipple. He clasped the other, and his fingers ghosted ever so slightly down Albert’s stomach and to his groin. Albert twitched from the tickle. Tapping the end of the sounding rod, the Count turned on the power box. Albert gasped, stiffened, and squirmed at the foreign feeling of electrical currents dancing along sensitive nerves in his body. With his mouth agape, Albert was quiet at first, breathing erratically as he clenched fistfuls of bedding. The Count added to his pleasure, turning a wheel that powered the dildo. It was as if it was a switch for Albert’s voice. Suddenly he was moaning, calling out incoherencies. Edmond pulled Albert to sit up. He writhed, shifting his legs. He looked up with tears forming in his eyes.

“How lovely, your little beauty mark when dressed in tears of ecstasy.” The Count wiped away the boy’s tears and kissed him again and again, tweaking the clasps on his nipples as the surge of electricity stung his fingertips. He caressed Albert’s skin; Albert's soft cries were the only sound besides the silent hum of vibration and buzzing of electric current. Paired with his erratic breathing, the Count found it all very intimate, controlling the boy's pleasure and gently stroking his skin, glistening in sweat. He rubbed his fingers by Albert's scrotum, giving him a soft and gentle squeeze. The young Viscount fidgeted his feet, his skin hot as the Count fondled his balls and stroked his cock affectionately. He arched his hips to teasing, deft fingers. His nonsense cries and sighs drowned out the whirring of machines as he came; the sounding rod ejected suddenly on his stomach, coated in thick milky white. The Count wiped his hands on the cloth he set on the nightstand and wiped down the boy’s abdomen. He made sure the power box was turned off and powered down the vibrator. Albert was a heavy-breathing mess, eyes closed and mouth ajar as he relaxed tiredly. The Count stroked his cheek.

“How lovely you are.” The Count set everything aside to be thoroughly wiped and sanitized later. Edmond waited until Albert was more clear-headed to offer, “Why don’t you take a shower. I’ll call for your clothes to be washed and bring you something to wear.”

Albert nodded before trying to sit up.

“Careful, now.”

Edmond helped Albert to his feet, and with an arm around the boy he guided him to the bathroom, which was also ostentatiously decorated with gold and ivory. Albert wasn’t sure if it was real ivory, but frankly he hadn’t had the capacity to really give a damn at the moment. The Count turned on the water for him, checked the temperature, and even lay out a towel and nightshirt, in case he had to wait longer than expected for his clothes. He washed his hands before excusing himself. Albert was still somewhat dazed. His heart was pounding with embarrassment, affection, anxiety, and admiration.

He stepped out, still toweling his hair in his borrowed shirt. His clothes were folded neatly, the chair was put back, and everything was as it was before. Albert dressed himself. His mother would worry if he stayed out late again. Franz would wonder where he was all day. He realized, looking at the watch the Count gave him, it wasn’t as late as he thought. It was afternoon. He spent only a few hours, most of it chatting and showering, he assumed. He reminisced the cold touch, the odd clockwork of the Count’s beating heart, sharp currents running through his body Flush, he turned to look for the Count. The Count of Monte Cristo had his back to Albert, having fallen asleep on his side. Viscount Morcerf rocked on his feet before deciding… He leaned close and kissed the Count’s soft and cured hair. Edmond stirred and Albert stepped back. He smiled and left the Count to rest.


End file.
